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Happy 2nd Birthday Smitty + Shepz

Imagine this in a sing-song mockery of a mother’s voice, from the mouth of a two-year-old boy, who happens to be Sheppard Call’s twin brother. I die laughing maybe twelve-hundred times every day because the things that are mirrored back to me by my newly and awesomely communicative baby boys are exactly too much to bear.

January 2012

January 2012

They’re not actually babies anymore. I know. Toddlers in full bloom is what they appear to be. And as it turns out, I’m a person who enjoys a fully adaptable toddler. Smith Nelson Call and Sheppard Nelson Call turn two years old today. Let’s face it – I’ve had my arse handed to me more times than I’d like to admit by this circus act I call my sons, but I love being their mom. I was built for this. I have never ever been so enraptured by anything in my life as I am by the science of raising three boys.

Science, you say?

Aye. Science.

February 2012

There are logic theorems and flow-charts growing in my head at lightening speed. Recently I found myself in an open park with two exits. Exits which emptied on to busy streets. Smitty and Shep in a predictably synchronized fashion each started running towards opposite ends of the park. Towards the streets. I’d say roughly thirteen scenarios flashed through my head in 1/2 of a second, most of them ending with blood and tears. Taking time to profane in ways that would make my mother cry, I ran towards Sheppard who was a little closer to me, and roughly shoved him to the ground. I theorized that if I pushed him down it would hurt his feelings enough to delaminate him enough into a puddle of tantruming tears. That kind of tantrum stays put, though. Then I ran as fast as I could to Smitty, who was out of the park and about four seconds away from the street.

March 2012

March 2012

Obviously, a better scientist would not have put herself in that situation, instead opting to have her kids in a safe spot with a closed-in perimeter.

Aye. I’m a scientist in training.

April 2012

April 2012

But I learned and also commended myself for figuring it out on the fly, in the moment, and without injury. (Shepz is a pushover and immediately forgave me when I produced some goldfish crackers and an assault of hugs and kisses. Works every time.)

May 2012

June 2012

What does this all have to do with their second birthday? I don’t know. I suppose I’m proud of myself for helping them survive this long, against crazy odds. I’m gonzo crazy in love for these two boys who balance each other out in the most perfect of ways. Smith has taken to kissing me whenever Shep does something naughty. Sheppard has taken to using all of the magic words I’ve taught him at once, employing “Please thank you sorry JUICE?!” as a means to get what he wants. They count together as we read books, Smith saying, “One….” and Sheppard finishing, “Two….”. They adore each other and drive each other bananas. They play together beautifully and crack each other up.

July 2012

August 2012

And though I’m prone to putting myself and those I love in dodgy situations, I do believe that I’m at a time where raising these guys is easier rather than harder. They love to color together and push cars around on each other bodies. They take turns trying to win over big brother Roan’s attention and affection. They work together to tackle Dad. And they still will pretend they are baby enough to nuzzle into my body when I bring them in for a way-too-tight cuddle. They are a set, they are a unit. Absolutely individual and with their own set of likes and dislikes. But these two have each other more than most people have anyone.

September 2012

October 2012

October 2012

I love that for them.

Happy birthday to my sweet little Sheppy and Smith. I love you boys one gazillion times more than is possible.

You could easily have titled this post ‘Redemption’ as it is that these two lovebugs have up made a thousand times over for the heartache from Soren’s loss. I have so loved watching them grow from afar, and I’m so admiring of your fierce love.

I can so relate to your story of shoving your boy to the ground to save him, as I recalled with clarity when my own boy was but five and learning to ride a bike. He became adept at the skill very quickly, but only in the mastering of riding back and forth, not in the control necessary when sudden stops or turns are needed and in his defiance of my need to show him how it’s done, with him riding off adamantly telling me ‘I’m FINE, Mom!’ I picked up a long stick and as he rode by smiling in his newfound confidence, I whipped the stick through his front tire. There was outright indignation that was immediately followed by a clear sense of understanding what I’d done. And he handled it well, without tumbling to the ground. But it taught both of us something that I’ve held to this day; he’s always going to learn things the hard way, and I will extend myself out far enough to hurt him if it means teaching him a lesson. Or saving his life. It’s amazing what, as parents, we are willing to do for them and to them to bring them up right.